Free Shadow on the Wall: Superhero | Magical Realism Novels (The SandStorm Chronicles | Magical Realism Books Book 1) by P.K. Tyler

A part of him hoped the men who had abandoned him in the desert, who had destroyed so much, would recognize him and attempt to finish what they began. This time, he would not be so easily subdued.
     "You have been away from home for a long time?" Darya inquired, tilting her head up to face him, her smile bright and her lips red.
    "What?" Recai's reply was too sharp.
    He had lost some of the grooming of his youth during his time in the desert. But the memory of his mother kept his back straight and his shoulders broad. He would do her legacy right.
    "You said you hadn't been in crowds much recently."
    "Oh, yes."
    He took a sip of his champagne, refocusing and pulling his attention back into the present.
    "You couldn't have been in Elih, if there were no crowds!"
    Darya was beautiful, no doubt about that. Her face was sharp: pointed chin, dramatic coloring, and rolling layers of thick hair. Put together, each feature enhanced and softened the others, giving her a look of ancient beauty. She was elegant and poised with a fierce gaze.
    "No, no, I've been on a bit of a hajj I guess you would say." Recai chuckled, in spite of himself.
    "You've been to Mecca?" Darya asked excitedly. Her feet itched to explore the world, to see the sky from anywhere but her penthouse balcony.
    "Ahh, no, not a real Hajj. More of a personal quest."
    "You've been lost."
    She stated it as a fact.
    "And you are very insightful."
    He turned to face her as he spoke, allowing her attention to occupy him. Without thinking, Recai reached out and placed his hand gently on the waist of the woman before him. With her hand still on his arm they stood close, close enough that Recai could smell her spicy perfume and the undertones of sandalwood oil. Music surrounded them, sealing the illusion that they were alone in the crowd.
    The two lost themselves. They stood outside of their customs and culture, souls yearning for more, beyond the constraints their worlds placed on them. Both had all of the privilege and power to have almost anything they wanted, but each was chained to a rock which slowly pulled them under the surface.
    The sitar blended with an electronic beat while a woman sang in Bulgarian, weaving a traditional sound with modern style. People had begun dancing in the center of the room; the wait staff served golden glasses of champagne and other liquors as fast as they could be poured.
    Recai placed his other hand on Darya's hip and stepped closer to her.
    He split in two, feeling as though sinew and muscle were ripping away from his heart. His body could not let go of the past, even for a moment. With a sigh he dropped his hands and stepped away from her embrace, his skin cold.
    "Something has hurt you," Darya surmised with her usual confidence. "I'm sorry."
    "No…" Recai felt the flush of shame rush to his cheeks. "Please, I… Don't be sorry."
    He spoke earnestly in a world where honesty was rare, and it filled her with joy.
    "There is nothing so awful that time and faith can't overcome. That's what they tell us, isn't it? Well Recai, between you and me, they lied. Some things cannot be overcome. It's how we continue on in spite of them that matters."
    They danced in and out of each other's reach through the night. Recai would take a step forward, only to retreat when Darya found the courage to meet his advance. Outside, the stars were on fire as they moved slowly across the sky. To them, the city was a million miles away from the horrors of his past. It was seductive to forget, to rewrite history, for Recai to change his past with the more benign story of having been on a spiritual quest instead of a desperate attempt to escape life.
    Eventually, Darya left him to join a group of women. While with Recai her whispered words spoke of judgment and annoyance, but publicly she smiled and laughed easily. He watched as she would answer a question with a smile, her head nodding toward him. No one spoke to him; had he changed so much during his years away?